The Ballad of the Five Marys

by Donald Smith

  In front of both armies, Earl Bothwell felled the commander single handed, like Bruce before Bannockburn. Struck down by this arm. I took my chance. So they attacked Leith in a fury of revenge – a direct assault but launched too early. The ladders were thrown back. The few who got inside were cut down by gunners. Even the whores ran to the walls with stones and fiery coals to empty on their heads. Then they ran like scalded cats.

  Then nothing did but that John Knox climbed the pulpit of St Giles to mend their spirits. He preached that God exposes his chosen to mockery and shame, so that they may know their weakness. But God chastises his children for a purpose. Let a blind world crow, for in the moment of defeat God will give strength and victory to the godly remnant.

  In Knox’s creed even a reverse is gain, yet there may be a shadow of truth in his rantings. We act in the moment but can never calculate every consequence. There is a tide that steers our ends, beyond our ken. But a man must act boldly and not brood. Otherwise we are slaves.

  Things fell quiet so I went to see Her Majesty the Guise, cooped up in the Castle. She looked dreadful, swollen yet bloodless. But she sat upright in her chair, chalk white, with braided hair tied back and a bonnet on her head.

  ‘Your Majesty.’

  ‘You have rendered me good service, Earl Bothwell. You are a brave man.’

  ‘I shall never desert you, not like Maitland.’

  ‘You know what I want you to do.’

  ‘I have been ready these last four or five days, only waiting on your word.’

  ‘The English are closing their grip.’ A spasm of pain quivers through her flesh. ‘I need more soldiers from France, or help from elsewhere.’

  ‘I will return with an army, and drive the rebels into the sea.’

  ‘You will not delay?’

  ‘I will always be in the place where my service is needed.’ I felt an overwhelming urge to convince her, old and ugly as she was.

  ‘These are my letters to Her Majesty my daughter. They are secret dispatches.’

  ‘Secure in my trust.’

  ‘If the channel is blockaded you are to go from Paris to Copenhagen, as lord High Admiral to the King of Denmark who has many ships.’

  ‘Your Majesty, have no fear.’

  ‘My days have stretched, James, beyond fear. Be kind to Mary and loyal. She will reward you as I am no longer able.’

  Her eyes begin to glaze. Laudanum. So I bent down low and pressed my lips to her pudgy hand. I was sad to leave her but relieved to escape that room. It smelt of the grave.

  Cold seas and prevailing easterlies, but finally I reached Denmark. We nosed into the harbour at Copenhagen. There were enough ships there to transport twenty armies. I received a royal welcome. This is how the Lord High Admiral should be treated. I belong to wider spheres, though I slipped out of Scotland like a reiver.

  Frederick had cold eyes and a long nose. The veins mottled on his cheeks for one so young. The King was calculating but beside him lolloped a great German hound. His body and his Court were swathed in furs. God knows the winds were cold. He drank and hunted like a true Scotsman, so we were brothers in his flagons. He was like a boar that charges in the field, and put in his snout to empty the trough at one snort. But his eyes were cold.

  He knew more than I did, and his German allies may have been willing to send troops if Denmark provided ships. But the English had spies everywhere there, and pressed their case to be a Protestant ally in place of Catholic France. It made my head ache after a long night. Why could we not have action – a fleet at sea for Scotland – before the good Queen Regent was overwhelmed? Instead another day of feasting. Tomorrow another forest, and another chase. Fortunately there was some other diversion.

  Danish women are generally pasty in the flesh and stocky. They twist lots of blond hair round their heads in braids, but don’t show breast or shoulder except on rare state occasions. The tone is sober, unless everyone is in their cups. Matrons seem to rule at Court and keep the young beauties carefully screened, especially from the drinking bouts. French manners are out of fashion and the whores smell of fish.

  My lodgings were in town close by the castle with Admiral Thorondsen. He was a Norwegian settled there and married into a rich merchant family. They had one son and seven daughters, two of whom were grown up and married to Scots merchants. Next in line came Anna.

  ‘You are the Admiral of Schottland.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Do you have many of ships?’

  ‘Hundreds.’

  She was dark haired and lustrous, like a Spaniard, but very young.

  ‘Shall I call on your quarters?’

  ‘That would be very nice, but you must ask your mother first.’

  ‘Mother knows nothing of what we do.’

  I found her to my liking, innocent and keen to please. She had her eye on me but I had to proceed with caution at this foreign Court with its northern customs. She was barely sixteen.

  The Admiral seemed complaisant. It is not easy to marry off seven daughters. Perhaps he was fishing for a noble husband, in which case I would not become his catch.

  One day, returning early from the Court, I found Anna and the Admiral at business in their public chamber. She was preparing bills of lading, duties and commissions, and counting out the reckoning for each merchant captain. They waited their turn and came in to meet the Admiral exchanging news and pleasantries with guttural tones. She kept in the background, severely dressed with hair bound back, but had her eye on every coin. I smiled as I pass on to my rooms. This was a different Anna from the giddy girl, and more appealing.

  Two nights later I arrived home in the dark after sitting late with Frederick and Adolph. Perhaps I was clattering or cursing, but someone came behind me with a torch and followed me into the room.

  ‘Shall I light your lamps, Admiral?’

  ‘Thank you, Anna.’

  ‘Will you take a glass of wine warm?’

  ‘I think not, thank you.’

  She lingered at the door, loose gowned, with long black hair down on her shoulders. Her eyes were glinting. I should not have, but beckoned with my hand which runs beneath the linen on a shoulder smooth as glass.

  ‘You must not do this, Anna. You are a noble match.’

  ‘I want a nobleman’s bed.’

  So she helped me undress. I don’t remember much, but suppose I took her virginity that night. It was the first of many pleasurable beddings as she learned from me the arts of love. Her flesh was flawless to touch or view. Even the mole below her shoulder blade was an ornament not a blemish. She was the handsomest woman I had lain with till then, though not the hottest in her passions. She passed the time and I became quite fond.

  The Admiral and his lady seemed to avert their gaze for a while. Then the expectant looks started, conversations broken off, half spoken hints. A reckoning approached but as it did she became bolder, visiting each night and lingering longer in my bed, as if she were mistress and I a guest.

  Fredrick was ready now to send me on to the German Rhinegrave. All seemed full of promise for my cause. He proposed that he and his brother Adolph should escort me to their frontiers with a train of knights and gentlemen. An expedition would divert him. We could be merry together on the road.

  This was not the time for scandal, so I approached the Admiral to ask his daughter’s hand. Only it would not be convenient to wed till I could return to Scotland. In the meantime she would accompany me. He expressed satisfaction with my proposal and mentioned the substantial dowry that it would not be convenient to pay until the marriage. Nonetheless Anna already had money of her own to cover any expenses she might incur.

  No suggestion from him of holding Anna a hostage at home. He knew that citadel was breached. Instead the gold would be retained, while Anna would go with me – betrothed though yet unwed. This was her wish too, so I agreed to travel with her in my baggage. What choice had I? It was a convenient arrangement. Her lovemaking became fiercer and more p
ossessive as if by digging in her claws she would stay attached.

  Frederick was amused, and Adolph uproarious. Backslapping and more wine. Would they have been so affable had I left without Anna in train? I thought I caught those cold eyes appraising me between quaffs. Those eyes are still before me now. Will I ever escape them?

  So off we went, a jovial band, with Anna flirting and entertaining like a courtier born. The brothers seemed to revel in the license so I held my tongue. Bothwell can be patient, biding his moment. We parted at the border lifelong friends.

  I lapsed into a brooding silence till we reached the Rhinegrave’s palace. Here she would be discreet, or share a servant’s bed. Nothing should blot my triumph at this new Court. A German army would march at my back to board a Danish fleet. The English driven back into the sea. I would receive the tribute of a grateful Queen. Aye, the daughter bow before me, in her own royal chamber.

  ‘What is the matter with you, my Admiral? Are you sad?’

  ‘I must win the Rhinegrave’s favour.’

  ‘Shall I dress you?’

  ‘In these old rags?’

  ‘Then let us buy rich robes.’

  ‘We have not yet received our subsidies from the Queen in Scotland.’

  ‘What does it matter? I have gold to buy – look.’

  ‘You are a clever girl. But keep to these rooms till I am received by the Rhinegrave.’

  ‘Do I shame you before the Germans?’

  ‘Hold your mouth and do what you’re told. I’m not your father’

  ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘Leave it be.’

  ‘Will you beat me, with your sword or with your belt? ’

  The kitten showed claws, and she diverted the weary hours. At courts the largest part was waiting on the great, but the Rhine grave received me well, spluttering gracious words and promises in broken English. The Danes had done their business. He did not mention Anna. I spoke for Scotland; I looked and felt like a King.

  That night we celebrated the success of our embassy – Anna and I in my apartments. She sent out for food and wine. She knows the way to let go and please. Deep, drunken sated sleep. I woke to a hammering at the door. Anna startled in her shift. Messengers from France to say Marie de Guise is dead.

  A Bothwell for ill luck. Her limbs bloated she expired. What a moment she chose to die. Now the English and French were treating for peace over Scotland’s head. My command? Three empty saddlebags and a Danish mistress hell bent on marriage.

  The Rhinegrave keeps smiling and spluttering. Damn their diplomatics. I must away to Paris and try another throw there. Would Mary still consider Scotland? Or remember my service to her mother? Our lassie Queen, mated to a weakly boy, and all the wealth of France at her command. Farewell Denmark, goodbye Germany; I might never see you at close quarters again. If I had known. Thank God we still had Anna’s golden gelders to tide us over.

  The best thing about Scottish inns is that they cheat you in your own language. Here they bamboozle and rob you all at once. Unending tracks and hovels, with ne’er a hill in sight is our daily lot.

  Finally I left her in Flanders, where Anna had cousins. We could have sailed for Scotland where the corpse is being picked over, but Paris must be tried first, without a mistress in the baggage. After tears and embraces, I departed supplied for my journey.

  Two places in the world I am content. In the Borders with a river running, a stallion between my legs, and the wind about my ears. Or in Paris. I took lodgings by the Louvre – no student’s garret – and let the town renew acquaintance. The inns are good, the weather fine, and if needs must I know where the best whores can be had.

  Distractions were required as I waited upon another Court seeking audience. The Queen is indisposed; she is in mourning still; the King is unwell; she must attend on His Majesty; it is a Saint’s Day; the Duc de Guise would like to meet with you first, and so forth. I took to gaming which was foolish, and drinking with Scots soldiers, which was instructive. The mood was bad. The Guise faction had made peace behind Mary’s back, and renounced her claim to England, all to keep their power in France. The Protestants had to be suppressed here first. Only Henri’s death, they said, saved the Guise from ruin, so they delayed reinforcing Scotland till it was too late, leaving their good sister to die besieged and friendless.

  When it really mattered Scotland was a bauble to their crown. And so it will be always – a plaything of England, France, the Empire, and the Pope in Rome – until we raise up a standing army and defend our own. That is what I told the late Queen, aye and now the daughter. And lay my own sword at her feet.

  Her Majesty was pale and distraught. Where had all the lustre gone? She seemed strained, worn not slender. My heart went out to her for wasted beauty. I consoled her on her mother’s loss and the tears sprang to her eyes. So I recounted the trials and battles of recent months, my audiences with the Regent, the words we spoke together, my deeds, my loyalty and devotion. She drank it in with shining eyes.

  Were we not formed alike – a mother rarely seen, a father wholly lost. I found myself unable to pursue my suit. I held her hand, bowed, and pressed my lips to soft flesh. For a moment we were held together. Then I left to return again before too long, her mournful voice ringing in my ears, I took a horse and rode out into the forest, goading, spurring the beast beyond endurance. Then back to town from inn to tavern till the dark hours brought release. With every appetite slaked, I was brought more to myself, but still wakeful in the early hours. Am I made for womanish emotion or resolution? I cannot retrieve my early losses: let them be buried. I shall go forward unfettered, a Bothwell for hazard.

  I must write to Flanders for more money.

  The next time I rode to Fontainebleau. Francis, Duc de Guise, indulged me with an interview to discuss affairs at home. Their tactic was for the Bastard to rule as his sister’s Regent. Did they not know he would be King? What a dour country that would be. Guise gave me to believe they still aimed at the English crown, describing how Mary had refused to ratify their Protestant treaty with the Royal Seal of Scotland.

  Why should she give up her claim to England with nothing to show for it? Even in grief that woman had spirit. She will surprise the world yet, as much as she has so far delighted. I found her more reserved and grave. The pallor was still there but her stance was firmer, more upright. I made formal obeisance.

  ‘Are all your former games gone to heaviness?’

  My boldness won a wan smile.

  ‘His Majesty has been poorly and much plagued by headaches.’

  ‘He is young and will recover all his strength as the season improves.’

  ‘Indeed. Shall we walk in the garden?’

  She led me out with her gaggle of Marys behind, none too silent. I stared in their direction without acknowledgement.

  ‘Are you enjoying Paris, Lord James?’

  ‘It is my favourite town, Madam.’

  ‘Really, then you have sampled all its pleasures?’

  A touch of the old raillery.

  ‘Your Majesty is pleased to mock me. I am more sober than my reputation, and hard pressed by the necessities of these embassies.’ Is that too broad a hint?

  ‘You shall not find us ungrateful, Lord James. Your loyalty to my late mother I know, and your continuing service is highly valued by myself. What is your news of our unhappy country?’

  ‘Any Regent must have a Council, Madam, and it must be composed of your loyal subjects. Athol, Huntly, Argyll, who is a true Scotsman though not of your faith. The Hamiltons cannot be left out. Nor Morton for the Douglas interest. Mar, Erskine are all good men. I myself would be honoured to serve.’

  ‘But of course, I depend on you. Duty alone will be my test, not religion. I will oppress none, so that all may practice their belief in peace.’

  ‘That is wise and gracious, Madam.’

  ‘Will you return to Scotland and uphold my cause?’

  ‘That is my intention.’

&nbs
p; ‘And you will also serve in amity my brother, James Stewart, as Regent?’

  Had someone told her of bad blood between us?

  ‘If that is your will.’

  ‘My will is that all should agree to live in harmony.’

  ‘What of England?’

  I was keen to know what she intended in my own backyard.

  ‘An honourable peace must be sought with my loving cousin, Elizabeth.’

  ‘You have not ratified their treaty?’

  ‘I shall study that further, and Francis and I will meet with the English ambassadors.’

  ‘England should have no more sway than France. This strong arm will keep your southern border secure.’

  I could be no clearer.

  ‘You are a brave man,’ she complimented, ‘but more warrior than diplomat I believe.’

  I went down on one knee, humbly repentant.

  ‘Excuse my rough ways. I learned to live off the land and defend it against all comers, even when a boy.’

  She looked away as if offended, but it was a signal for an equerry in the background.

  ‘Please accept this token of my gratitude and esteem. Mary Stewart does not forget her friends.’ I stoop in acknowledgement, gauging as I bend three bags held in the servant’s arms. ‘Also it is His Majesty’s pleasure to make you a gentleman of the bedchamber.’

  ‘I am humbled and deeply honoured by His Majesty’s notice, and will wait upon him in his chambers.’

  ‘When he is...’

  ‘When he has regained his full vigour.’

  ‘Indeed. I hope you will come to see us again soon.’

  ‘I am not sure how long I may be detained in Paris. My affairs in Scotland demand attention.’

  ‘How will you return?’

  ‘By Flanders. The Channel ports are still watched by English ships, and they do not love Earl Bothwell.’

  ‘May they have good cause.’